


is it just part of the process? (well jesus christ, it hurts)

by queenjameskirk



Series: call it home [2]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Bill Denbrough Cries After Sex, Bill/Everyone mentioned, M/M, Smut, Spanking, it's my fic and i get to pick the kinks!!!, richie: mom said it's MY turn to ride the group bicycle!, soft D/s themes, this is literally JUST porn this time lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 11:37:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20705354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenjameskirk/pseuds/queenjameskirk
Summary: “Wuh-what do you m-mean it wasn’t the right time? For what?” Bill asks. Richie pauses, withdrawing his hands from Bill’s shirt and just resting them on Bill’s chest, eyes on his own fingers as he toys with the pocket on Bill’s shirt.“I—“ he pauses, throat working as he swallows. “I want you to do it again,” Richie says, looking at Bill seriously. His eyes are dark and glittering in the light, hair curling over his forehead and his ears.“Do what?” Bill thinks he maybe knows what Richie is asking for, what’s he’s been asking for this whole time while he’s cornering Bill and kissing him like he wants to crawl inside Bill’s skin.“Make me cry again,” Richie whispers.





	is it just part of the process? (well jesus christ, it hurts)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cathect](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathect/gifts).

> oh ya'll thought we were DONE? uh uh fuckers, strap in for 2 Tripping 2 Eyes, the long awaited sequel to my shame fic!! somethin abt bill hader in that damn movie kicked my ass into gear!! 
> 
> this is dedicated to hannah, who is not only the best beta a bitch could ask for, but who is also the best friend a person could ever deserve. thank you so much for humoring me and cheering me on and inspiring me to create better work every day. 
> 
> thanks also to E, my muse, for also making sure im always Well Fed and taken care of emotionally and creatively. 
> 
> yall are the best and i would be nowhere without you!

_you need a big god,_   
_big enough to hold your love_   
_you need a big god_   
_big enough to fill you up_

_sometimes i think it's getting better_   
_and then it gets much worse_   
_is it just part of the process?_   
_well jesus christ, it hurts_

_-big god by florence+the machine_

It hasn’t been five minutes since Mike left for work, waving goodbye to Bill through the front window as he climbed into his battered old truck, when Richie crowds Bill up against the kitchen counter, pressing his hips into Bill’s back and rubbing his nose along Bill’s neck. Eddie’s at physical therapy, Bill dropped him off at the hospital earlier, and Bill realizes this is perhaps the first bit of alone time he and Richie have had in the past two months. He breathes in, Richie’s lips brushing the skin just under his ear. 

Richie smells clean, like he’s just jumped out of the shower, and his skin is warm. Richie runs his palms up Bill’s arms, rucking up the sleeves of his t-shirt and making Bill breathe heavily out of his nose. When Bill tilts his head around to catch a glimpse of Richie, the other man runs a hand up over Bill’s chest to grip his chin. Bill never really gave a thought to how much bigger Richie is than himself, but now it feels ridiculous for Bill to have missed what the years have done to Richie’s body. Bill’s not a small guy himself but Richie is so much taller and his arms have this surprising strength behind them, and Bill breathes out heavy as he has to tip his head back to look Richie in the eyes. 

Richie turns them with the hand that’s not wrapping around Bill’s face, switching Bill around so his front is pressed close to Richie’s, head bent as he leans down to look Bill in the eyes. He isn’t wearing his glasses and Bill tries not to think about how his eyes look so much smaller without them, intimate and bright without the glass covering them up. Bill’s still thinking about it when Richie finally leans down and kisses him, warm and dry with his lips only slightly parted. He breathes into Bill’s space, his chest expanding and pressing hard against Bill’s own until Bill gets the idea and starts breathing in rhythm with him so they can remain as close as possible. Richie exhales against his mouth, warm and wet, and Bill feels it all the way down to his toes.

Bill lets his lips part wider, and Richie takes the opportunity to lick into his mouth. The counter is digging into Bill’s back but he can’t feel anything other than Richie; Richie’s hand on the small of his back while the other holds tight to the side of Bill’s neck, Richie sucking on his bottom lip, Richie’s knee creeping forward to push Bill’s legs apart and settling between them. 

“You wanna take this upstairs?” Richie breathes against Bill’s mouth, his eyes crossed so he can meet Bill’s. Bill nods, not trusting his voice to cooperate when Richie’s pressing a thigh against his dick, and Richie grins at him. 

They move for the stairs as one, laughing like a couple of kids as Richie trips over the bottoms of his sweatpants and Bill bumps his head on the banister when he spins around to kiss Richie against the wall. They finally make it to the vicinity of Bill’s room and Bill can’t help himself from spinning Richie around and pressing him into the door, his hands on Richie’s hips and his mouth traveling down Richie’s face to his neck.

“You’ve been tuh-teasing for weeks, Richie,” Bill says, crowding him up against the closed bedroom door, his fingers already fumbling at Richie’s belt. He leaves a kiss on Richie’s adam’s apple, then pulls off. “You think I haven’t nuh-noticed?”

“Wasn’t the right time,” Richie sighs, running his hands up Bill’s shirt and touching his stomach, just light enough to tickle. He leans in to capture Bill’s mouth again, honey sweet. His fingers dance over Bill’s stomach and he sucks in a breath to hide the fact that it tickles, just a bit. Bill pulls back. 

“Wuh-what do you m-mean it wasn’t the right time? For what?” Bill asks. Richie pauses, withdrawing his hands from Bill’s shirt and just resting them on Bill’s chest, eyes on his own fingers as he toys with the pocket on Bill’s shirt. 

“I—“ he pauses, throat working as he swallows. “I want you to do it again,” Richie says, looking at Bill seriously. His eyes are dark and glittering in the light, hair curling over his forehead and his ears. 

“Do what?” Bill thinks he maybe knows what Richie is asking for, what’s he’s been asking for this whole time while he’s cornering Bill and kissing him like he wants to crawl inside Bill’s skin. They haven’t been together like that since the night of the sewers; the night they slept together in Bill’s motel room. Bill’s been staying in the upstairs guest room at Mike’s, a room with two twin beds tucked in opposite corners. There was a week when he and Richie took turns crashing in Eddie and Mike’s hospital rooms, drinking watery coffee and talking in hushed voices, waiting for their friends to recover. They let Mike out first, so Richie and Bill retreated to his house with him, sharing the guest room. Then Eddie came home and Richie’s been staying with him in the basement, getting him used to the whole one arm thing. 

It’s been nearly two months since that night at the motel and Bill hasn’t stopped thinking about it since. 

“Make me cry again,” Richie whispers. They’re still pressed against the door to Richie’s room, and Bill slides his hand from Richie’s hair to cup the side of his face. 

“You sure?” he asks, searching Richie’s face for any sign of hesitation. He knows they both enjoyed that night, maybe a little too much if Bill’s constant low level state of arousal around Richie now says anything about it, but Richie also refused to talk to him for the rest of the night. It was a lot, Bill knows that more than anybody else, but he had been kind of hurt when Richie refused his offer to cuddle. 

“Of course I’m sure,” Richie says, leaning down to nip at Bill’s jawline, to his neck and all the way back to his ear. It’s a bit comical to watch him slouch his back so far down to get to Bill’s neck but it’s also incredibly hot, so Bill can’t find it in himself to laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard in my life,” 

“W-well alright then,” Bill says. He feels himself switch a little bit into the headspace as he draws his hand away from Richie’s body to turn the doorknob and send them hurtling into Richie’s room. 

They don’t bother turning on the light, Richie just kicks the door closed behind them and then starts to strip out of his clothes, pushing his hands into Bill’s space to fumble with his belt buckle. 

“No,” Bill says, pulling back to look at Richie seriously. “If you wuh-want to do this, we’re doing it m-my way,” 

“Okay, whatever, fine,” Richie says bitchily, trying to force his mouth back onto Bill’s, but it’s too late. Bill’s there now, in the place where he gets to drift into control, and there’s no room for Richie to force him into anything. Bill smiles, slow and steady, moving from Richie’s space, and then turns to walk toward the bed. 

“Come here,” he says, sitting down on the edge of the bed, stripping out of his shirt as he goes. He gestures for Richie to settle into his lap. Richie goes to tug his shirt over his head but he only gets it about halfway rucked up his stomach before Bill’s stopping him, tugging it back down gently. Richie furrows his eyebrows but Bill just smiles at him, slow, and Richie shrugs before moving to swing his leg over Bill’s hips to straddle him. Bill grabs hold of Richie’s hips before he gets there, and adjusts him so he’s about to be draped over Bill’s lap rather than sitting in it. 

“Bend over,” Bill commands softly, and Richie looks at him with his mouth dropped just a bit, lips red and his eyes blown wide. He complies, sticking his ass in the air and then thrusting his hips downwards just enough to brush against Bill’s erection. “Tease,” Bill breathes, and then he starts drawing Richie’s sweatpants down his legs. Richie isn’t wearing any underwear beneath them, which Bill honestly should have expected, and it turns him on further to know Richie didn’t even bother getting fully dressed after his shower. His shirt is riding up over his back and Bill runs his fingers down Richie’s spine before dipping them lower. 

“You were ruh-really itchin’ for it, weren’t ya, Rich?” Bill asks lightly, skimming his hands over Richie’s thighs, feeling the coarse hair covering smooth skin. “No underwear?” 

“Didn’t figure there was a point,” Richie answers, and Bill tuts his tongue before trailing a finger over the curve of Richie’s ass to press inside, just a touch. Richie keens, his cock hard against Bill’s hip and his lungs expanding with every harsh breath he draws in. Bill withdraws, kneading his knuckles into Richie’s ass and then down his thighs once again. 

Richie has dimples on the small of his back, right above his ass, and Bill massages his thumbs into both of them. Richie’s hips lift off of Bill’s lap, pressing him further back into Bill’s grasp but Bill just pushes right back down until Richie’s laying flat again, anchoring him still. 

“Get on with it, Bill,” Richie huffs out, turning so the side of his face is pressed into the bed. 

“Quiet, and keep still,” Bill commands, soft but firm, and he lays the palm of his hand on Richie’s ass. He knows his hands must be cold because Richie’s body is hot as metal on a summer day under them, but Richie still presses back up against him, like he can’t help it. 

“I said s-stay still,” Bill says, then winds up and brings his hand back down right on the curve of Richie’s ass. 

The first blow is loud. Bill’s palm stings from the slap and the sound echoes through the room, bouncing off the walls and back into Bill’s ears. Richie jerks, his skin turning pink in the shape of a handprint, and he whimpers almost too softly for Bill to hear. 

“Count them for me, Trashmouth,” Bill says. His voice is steady, rock solid and Bill starts to feel comfortable, in control. 

“Oh my god,” Richie breathes, almost like he can’t help it, and his voice is not steady at all. Bill kind of likes how it sounds, likes the thought of Richie cracking under the pressure already. There’s a beat and then Richie does as he’s been told, choking out a tight “One,”

“Good boy,” Bill says, “Keep it up,”

He waits a moment longer and then hits again, slapping the other cheek right in the middle. 

By the time they get to six, Bill thinks Richie might be getting used to the pain. His hips jerk every time but his counting has evened out, his rib cage expanding with every breath but no longer shaking on the exhale like it had the first few times. 

“Can’t you go any harder?” Richie asks, turning his head again to look Bill in the eye. His face is flushed, trailing down his neck and darkening his chest, but his eyes are bright and clear. Bill wants to see him lose that control, and he wants it to happen soon. 

“Keep c-counting,” Bill says in response and Richie huffs, turning his head back to rest on the bed. Bill really puts some power behind the next hit, right on the fleshiest part of Richie’s ass where he knows it will sting the worst. Richie moans, his cock leaking just a bit onto Bill’s pants, and Bill knows he got him when Richie stutters out,

“S-Seven,”

“I’m sorry,” Bill says, pressing his thumb hard right where he just slapped, into pink sensitive skin. “I don’t think I heard that last one,”

“Seven,” Richie hisses, clearer, and Bill rewards him by slapping the other cheek with the same severity. 

“Eight,” Richie groans, pushing his face into the mattress and speaking into it, muffled. Bill slaps the side of his ass, almost onto his thigh, and Richie’s count is almost too muffled to hear. 

“What d-did I just say?” Bill tuts, then takes his other hand from Richie’s hip and grabs hold of the back of his hair, pulling it so Richie has to lift his head. The next few slaps are quick, not with the same force behind them, but instead just enough to sting for a split second before the next one comes raining down. Richie hisses in a breath but he counts dutifully, and Bill rewards him by running a hand from his ass to his thigh, then up to grip the base of Richie’s dick. Richie moans, low and loud, and Bill gives him just a few strokes before he moves back all the way. He figures Richie’s worked up enough, it might be time to get the show on the road before he blows his load just from looking at Richie’s pink cheeked ass. 

“Wuh-wait here,” Bill commands, sliding out from under Richie and off the bed. He’s pleased to find Richie obeys, supporting himself on his knees and elbows with his ass in the air. His arms are shaking just a little bit and his head is bowed down so Bill can’t see his face, but he’s solid and Bill feels just a little bit proud of him. Bill crosses the room to the dresser, grabbing the lube and a condom, but he pauses for a moment. He has an idea. He grabs a third object off the dresser and then returns to Richie on the bed, dropping all his stuff on the comforter and finally unbuttoning his jeans and stepping out of them. He’s been hard pretty much since the kitchen but he’s been ignoring it, focused so much on Richie, but he needs a little relief. 

“Alright,” Bill says, reaching and grabbing hold of Richie’s waist, “Up,”

He guides Richie to his back, pulling Richie’s hips over one of his legs and leaning him back onto his elbows, so he can see Richie’s face. His shirt rides up further, almost exposing his nipples, and his cock is hard against his stomach, and Bill wants to weep at how beautiful a picture he makes. Bill reaches a hand between Richie’s thighs to guide his leg up, exposing his ass once again. He gives him another moment to catch his breath, pressing behind Richie’s balls and then trailing down to circle his hole once more before he picks up the hairbrush he took off the dresser and whacks Richie with it. 

It must take him completely by surprise because Richie screams, loud and agonized. He closes his eyes, and Bill grabs hold of the back of Richie’s neck, supporting his head and bringing him up for a kiss. 

“We still okay?” Bill breathes against Richie’s mouth, and Richie pants against him, his breath hot and humid, but he doesn’t answer. “R-rich,” Bill prompts again and Richie nods sharply. 

“All good,” Richie says, but his eyes are closed tight. Bill tuts, searching Richie’s face, and then finally he peeks his eyes open. They’re bright, a little watery, and Bill grins as Richie rolls his eyes. “Seriously, you’re a dick,” Richie says and Bill laughs before leaning back in to kiss him again, close mouthed and sincere. He pulls back and keeps his hand on Richie’s neck to gently lower him back down onto his elbows. 

“T-tell me if it guh-gets to be too much,” Bill says, adjusting Richie’s leg to expose him once more, and then he gets back to work. Richie jumps as the hairbrush comes back down onto his ass, but he doesn’t scream again. Bill figures it was maybe just the surprise that first time that made him shout, but nevertheless Richie’s voice is shredded when he croaks out the number twelve. 

“You don’t have to count anymore,” Bill decides. He thinks Richie tries to nod but then Bill’s slapping him again and all Richie does is moan and throw his head back, eyes closed. When he shifts, Bill notices the shine on his cheeks, tears rolling down his face and into the bedspread. 

The hairbrush brings a new kind of edge to it, Bill realizes. It’s a little less intimate, no more feeling Richie’s body connect with his own on every blow, but he thinks it’s what Richie needs. He’s gone silent, neck red with flush and his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, and tears tracking down his cheeks. Bill knows that was the goal, but he doesn’t stop the blows, just keeps varying the speed and intensity of the slaps until Richie is positively sobbing. 

At some point, maybe when Richie is keening from a blow low enough on his ass that it makes his teeth clack in his head, Bill realizes he’s gone too far. Not for Richie, not at all, but for himself. It’s become mechanical, his brain zoned out and his body carrying out his actions on muscle memory and suddenly Bill is thrust back into reality and he falters on the next hit, slapping Richie’s hip instead of his ass, and Richie cries out in genuine pain, no moan of pleasure coloring his voice. 

Bill’s heart is beating loud in his ears, drowning out the sounds of the room, and Bill’s brain is stuttering. 

_Do something_, he thinks, _fix it, _but he can’t. He’s frozen, stuck in his spot staring at Richie shaking on the bed. His muscles ache, arms both screaming from the repeated motion and his hands are burning, probably just as hot as Richie’s body is running. The hairbrush has helped but he still feels bruised on his palms, red and irritated. His heartbeat is still there, drumming in his chest, and Bill can’t draw in enough air. It’s like the room is collapsing on them, just him and Richie getting swallowed by the black void. 

“Please,” Richie moans, but Bill can’t do anything but let the blackness pull him down and swirl around him. It’s like the Deadlights, it’s like the Clown, but there’s no one to pull them out of it this time.

“Bill?” he hears Richie ask, but he’s miles away. His lungs are expanding too much every time he breathes in and he feels like his chest is going to burst, his ribs sticking through the skin and exploding his insides all over the room, and he’s having a heart attack here. Finally, after all those years of running from the Devil, he’s going to die in Mike’s guest room in nothing but his boxers. 

Richie’s hand on his shoulder feels like a brick, heavy and forcing Bill back into his body, and he turns wide eyes to Richie and finds him staring back at him worriedly, his other hand coming up to grab Bill by the shoulders. 

  
“What the fuck is happening to you?” Richie asks. He’s not underwater anymore, Richie’s voice almost too loud now that Bill is focusing on him, staring at his lips and watching them shape around the words. 

_ I’m okay _ , Bill tries to say, but the stutter in his brain makes its way to his tongue and all he can get out is the first syllable, repeating _ I-I- _until Richie shakes his head and pulls Bill in for a hug, wrapping his arms around Bill’s shoulders and tucking Bill’s face into his chest with a hand at the back of his head, warm and solid. Richie starts petting his hair, just absent minded movement, and Bill feels the tension bleed out of him slowly. 

Richie’s murmuring nonsense into his hair, his breath warm and ruffling Bill’s hair a little bit, and Bill can’t pick out specific words. He tries to focus on just the noise rather than the platitudes, letting Richie’s voice rumble through his brain. It’s kind of funny, the way Richie’s voice can change when he wants it to. It goes from nerdy and nasal to this, low and calm as he soothes Bill’s racing heart. 

“Okay,” Richie says finally, “My turn to take care of you,” 

“Really, it’s o-okay,” Bill tries to argue, but Richie shushes him and pushes Bill back to look him in the eyes. He’s serious, his eyes red rimmed but lucid, and Bill watches him brush away the tears on his cheeks and then lean in to kiss Bill gently on the lips. 

“Let me,” Richie says, and then gently pushes Bill down onto the bed with a solid hand on his sternum. He throws his leg over Bill’s waist to straddle him, brushing his ass over Bill’s crotch, but they’ve both gone soft and it only makes Bill shiver just a bit at the end of his spine. Richie leans down and places his mouth right on Bill’s pulse point, warm and wet as he licks over Bill’s neck. He places a kiss at the edge of Bill’s jaw, looping over to kiss his chin and nip at his ear and then back down to his chest, running his teeth over Bill’s clavicle and down to a nipple. 

He continues downward, kissing so gently on Bill’s stomach that he can’t help but shiver and jerk, and presses a kiss to the front of Bill’s underwear, where his dick is just starting to get hard again. Bill takes a deep breath, his chest expanding and it doesn’t feel like it’s going to burst anymore, just feels achy and little strung out. Richie hears him exhale, not quite a sigh but lower, and hooks his fingers in the waistband of Bill’s underwear to pull them down. 

“Relax,” Richie whispers, his breath blowing over Bill’s dick. It’s just as humid as when he was panting in Bill’s mouth and Bill shivers as Richie waits another moment before sinking down slowly, his mouth stretched wide over Bill. 

“Oh, god,” Bill moans, and feels his dick grow to full hardness again in Richie’s mouth. He feels fever hot, his muscles aching and it’s almost too much to bear as Richie swirls his tongue around the head of Bill’s dick. Then Richie’s pulling off to spit in his hand and wrap it tight around the base of Bill’s cock, sinking his mouth back down onto the head as he jerks Bill. 

“Richie,” Bill groans, throwing his head back against the pillow. Richie hmms in response and it sends little lightning shocks up Bill’s spine, his fingers clenching in the sheets. “Wha-- how are you so, uh, g-g-good at that?” Bill regrets asking as soon as the words leave his mouth, and Richie proves him right by pulling off and smirking at him. 

“How do you think I got so far in the comedy business? You gotta suck a lot of cock to get to the top,”

“Oh, fuck you,” Bill grits out and Richie barks out a laugh.

“Fuck you!” he giggles, still stroking Bill all the while. The tightness of his hand in juxtaposition with the relaxed smile on his face makes Bill blush. 

Bill knows his face is hot, and it feels like the fever spreads all the way down his neck and chest and all the way to his thighs. Richie quirks his lips at Bill one last time before opening his mouth wider and sinking back down, working a groan from Bill again as he hollows his cheeks a bit. Bill closes his eyes tight and tries not to come, god not right now, but it’s just so much. He’s so tired from the tension and the panic attack and Richie’s mouth is heaven. Finally Bill finds it in himself to push Richie off, tensing his stomach and angling his hips away from Richie’s mouth, but Richie keeps him in hand. 

“We good yet?” Richie asks. His hand is still working over Bill exquisitely, like it’s nothing in the world to be twisting his wrist on the upstroke so perfectly. Like it’s not gonna send Bill over the edge before he’s even gotten his own hand on Richie’s dick. 

“Yeah,” Bill huffs out, and Richie grins. He stills his hand and lets go, leaning out of Bill’s space to grab the lube and condom from where they’ve been sitting forgotten and thrusts them into Bill’s hands.

“Thank god,” Richie says, then pulls his shirt over his head and finally wiggles fully out of his sweatpants. “Now, fuck me,” 

  
“R-Rich,” Bill stutters, but Richie shushes him with a kiss. 

  
“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Denbrough,” Richie says against Bill’s lips, “You owe me one,” 

He takes the bottle of lube back from Bill and tips it open, pouring a liberal amount over his own hand. Richie leans back onto the bed and spreads his legs, giving Bill a perfect view of his red swollen ass. Bill can’t pick out a specific handprint but there’s definitely a mark from that final blow on Richie’s thigh, angry and red and Bill reaches out to run his fingers over it. Richie hisses in a breath and his dick jerks a little as Bill brushes over the mark again. 

“You gonna help or you gonna watch?” Richie asks, breathing steady, and Bill looks away from the red mark to see Richie start to press his middle finger inside himself. Bill’s mouth goes dry as Richie starts to work himself open, arching his spine to get a better angle. Bill grabs an extra pillow from the head of the bed and makes Richie stop for a moment so he can slide it under his hips for better access. There’s light shining off the tear tracks on Richie’s cheeks and Bill can’t stop himself from leaning in for a kiss, anchoring his hands on Richie’s open thighs. Richie gives as good as he takes, his tongue licking into Bill’s mouth as he works himself open with two, then three fingers. Bill can’t keep his hands still on Richie’s body, running them down his calves and back up over his thighs, petting the red marks on his ass. 

“Lay back,” Richie finally says, pulling his fingers out of himself. Bill complies, turning so Richie can crawl over him, and settles his head on the pillow that was under Richie’s hips. He grabs the base of his own dick, squeezing just to quell the ache, and lets Richie put a condom on him before slicking him up with lube. 

Then Richie’s sinking down so slowly, his thighs tensing and his hair falling onto his forehead. He groans as he does it, under his breath, his lip caught between his teeth. 

“Oh, g-god,” Bill chokes, legs shaking with the effort not to move, not to thrust up into Richie. “Rich--” 

“I know,” Richie soothes, his arms shaking as he finally seats himself fully, his stomach tense as he breathes hard for a minute. “Just give me a minute,” 

Bill lets him adjust, keeping his body deathly still except for his hands. He runs them up over Richie’s thighs and back, running his thumb over the point where his dick stretches into Richie. Richie tenses and Bill moves his hands so they’re just resting on the fleshy part of Richie’s ass. 

Richie breathes out slowly and then raises himself up only to drop back down, quicker this time. He moans as he does it, his eyes dropping closed and his eyebrows furrowed. Bill rocks up just a little bit, adding just a touch of rhythm and it must be just what Richie needs because he throws his head back, flushed neck stretched to the sky. Bill takes it as an invitation to pick up the pace and soon he and Richie are working in tandem, already sweating and panting with the exertion. 

“Do it,” Richie commands suddenly, his eyes snapping open to look down at Bill. His pupils are blown, brown eyes almost black, and Bill chokes out a moan and nods. He knows what Richie’s asking for and complies with a sharp slap to Richie’s ass. 

The room is stifling hot and it feels like Bill is absolutely covered in sweat, not helped by the fact that Richie stretches down to kiss Bill and drapes his entire body over Bill’s, pressing their chests together so they have to breathe in tandem again. Bill brings his hand down again over Richie’s ass and the man moans right into Bill’s mouth. 

Bill keeps one hand on Richie’s ass, pressing into the bruises as he rocks his hips upwards, and lets his other hand drift up Richie’s back, tracing his spine. He ends up with a hand in Richie’s hair, tangled in the curls, and Richie bends his head back as Bill pulls slightly, baring his neck. Bill smiles, just a bit, and then moves up to suck at that point next to Richie’s ear. The heat between them builds, but it feels like it’s been hours and there’s a part of Bill that feels like he’s been worn out. He’s gone so hard for so long that he’s not sure if he can find the jumping off point anymore, isn’t sure if Richie grinding down into his lap is going to be enough. 

“Move,” Bill forces out, sliding his hand from Richie’s hair to cup the back of his neck. 

“What?” Richie says, and Bill sees he’s got his eyes squeezed shut, his hips moving in a steady circle and he’s chasing the comedown with no regard to Bill’s own release. 

“Just--” Bill says, and Richie moans as Bill shifts his weight, and then he’s sliding out. He grabs hold of Richie’s hips and flips them, slamming Richie into the mattress. He doesn’t stop there though, he gets his knees under himself and then flips Richie onto his stomach, his red ass in the air. 

“Jesus, Bill,” Richie huffs, his arms coming up under himself and his head turning to see what Bill’s doing. Bill feels heavy and weightless at the same time, his head stuffy but his mind crystal clear as it hones in on Richie. It’s like they’re the only two people in the world, just them and this bed and the sweat between their bodies. 

Bill grabs Richie’s thighs, pulling him up to kneel, and then he pushes back into him, all at once. Richie keens, falling from his elbows to smash his face into the mattress, but it muffles his voice and that just won’t do. 

“I wanna hear you, Rich,” Bill says, and he uses a hand to spread Richie’s legs further apart, giving himself leverage. He wraps his other arm around Richie’s torso and then pulls the man towards himself, pressing his chest along Richie’s back. The angle is so much sweeter this way, deeper and Bill really can feel Richie now, can feel him taking shuddering breaths that make his ribs expand under Bill’s arm. 

He sets a punishing rhythm, fucking Richie good and deep, sticking his knee in the back of Richie’s to keep his legs forced wide open. He’s back in control now, back grounded to Earth and he thinks he could do this forever, could spend the rest of his life in this moment. He leans his lips in close to Richie’s ear and tells him how good he feels, how tight and hot he is.

“You like when I c-call you good, don’t ya, Rich?” he asks, and Richie moans loudly. “You are, you’re a good boy,”

Bill breathes in deep, breathing in the scent of Richie, and there’s a moment where he’s back in the past. He’s drunk and he’s in Richie’s bed and there’s a low level thrumming under his skin. He’s in Richie’s bed and he’s fighting with his best friend, and the thrumming becomes blood on the sheets and Bill stalking home in the early morning. The memories are fuzzy but they’re solid, the same way the memory of that Summer drifted back to him while sitting at a table in Jade of the Orient. Bill remembers punching Richie and he remembers kissing Eddie and then the memories of a Derry childhood blend into nothing at all. 

The others, the time between waking up from the last 27 years of slumber and now, those are more recent. The fuzz is more like a detached static, like he’s watching someone else go through the motions. He remembers sharing a cigarette with Mike, he remembers gently settling Bev onto her bed, he remembers the steam of a shower and a mirage of Stanley.

Bill remembers how it felt with Ben, how Ben’s hand around his throat narrowed everything down to just the basics: his breathing, Ben’s fever hot fingers on his skin, the stutter of his heart in his chest. It was so incredibly intimate and so incredibly freeing and Bill shakes the memories from his head. He settles back into the present, and the present is him sliding his forearm around Richie’s neck to put him in a headlock. 

Richie groans and Bill can feel his breath on his forearm, sticky hot. He squeezes his bicep, pulling Richie further into his grip, forcing him almost to his knees. Bill is sure he’s feeling the burn in his muscles, his back bent so far back and his thighs trembling to keep himself up. Bill’s sure he’s really feeling it, but he’s not complaining. Richie is being incredibly, incredibly good, and Bill thinks he deserves a reward. 

He doesn’t let Richie out of the headlock, not at all, but he lets his other hand drift down to grab Richie’s cock. He matches the pace of his hips with his hand, jerking Richie faster and faster, and then he flexes his bicep. It doesn’t cut Richie’s air off, Bill isn’t quite that strong, but the effect is heard. Richie goes stone silent, his Adam’s apple moving in the hollow of Bill’s elbow, and then finally, finally, he’s coming. 

Bill has to tighten his hold on Richie’s neck as the man bucks, his body going rigid as he rides it out, his ass tightening around Bill’s cock in waves. Bill thinks there may be a moment where he truly is choking Richie out, from the way Richie’s ribs go still and his moan tinges on true panic and Bill tries to lighten up without actually dropping Richie. He gasps in a breath, his voice shredded, and Bill can’t help the moan that falls from his own lips. 

“Oh my god,” Richie says, and he truly sounds worn out. It’s fucking hot, Bill thinks, and he knows it’s coming now. The wave is about to crash and he can’t stop it now, can’t get back into rhythm when Richie’s drooling on his bicep and moaning with every thrust that pushes Bill’s cock into him. 

“Come on, Bill,” Richie says. He’s wrecked, but he’s still trying to get Bill there, moving his hips back to meet Bill’s haphazard thrusts. “I’ve got you,” 

“I’m right here,” Richie says, and the memory shines back through. Bill remembers Richie saying those same words, that first night that ruined them and defined them. He gets two, maybe three more thrusts in and then the orgasm rips through him. He bites down on his bottom lip, but it doesn’t mute the sounds that tear out of him.

It feels like it’s been hours, like he’s been cresting for fucking ever and when it finally crashes down Bill pulses for what feels like an eternity. He spills with his dick all the way inside Richie, his hips moving of their own accord to push just a touch deeper, and he tastes copper as he bites open a cut on his lip. 

Finally, finally, it stops. The aftershocks make his legs twitch and his forearm is covered in saliva from Richie fucking drooling on him, and Bill forces himself to withdraw, to pull out and let Richie fall down onto the mattress. He’s about to join him, to fall down onto the bed and probably pass out from sheer exhaustion, when he has a realization. 

There are no tears in his own eyes. He isn’t crying.

He always just assumed it was natural for him, just something that always happened when he had sex. He never thought too far into it, just went along for the ride and tried not to feel embarrassed by his own body’s reactions. He’d even grown to love it, to love the way it made him feel raw and open and vulnerable. 

But there’s no sense of loss now; he doesn’t feel like he’s missing something. Instead, he almost feels whole again. His chest is light, his head clear. It almost feels like something has passed on, like something stuck between his ribs has given up its residence and spread its wings, flying on. 

“Oh shit,” Richie says, as Bill furrows his eyebrows. Richie has turned around, propped up on one elbow. His own eyes are red-rimmed, his nose fucking red and his cheeks flushed. He’s certainly been crying, which was the point for sure, but he must have noticed that Bill is not similarly teary. He groans, and not in the sexy way. “You didn’t even fucking cry this time?”

“G-guess not,” Bill says. 

“Are we gonna have to go again? Cause my ass feels like it just got fucked by an orc from _ Lord of the Rings _ ,” Richie rambles as he turns over, and Bill winces because his ass _ is _ still really red from the abuse. Richie even hisses as it hits the bedspread, like every movement sets his nerves on fire. “Seriously Bill, that dick should be classified as a deadly weapon,” 

“Shut up,” Bill says, but Richie just keeps going. 

“Never would have taken you for such a wrestling slut, by the way,” Richie continues, “That half Nelson was really fucking sexy, but next time warn a guy. I’ll wear my headgear; get really into the scene,”

He keeps talking as Bill leaves the room to get some water, a washcloth, and maybe some aloe for Richie’s bruised ass. When Bill comes back he’s stretched out on his stomach with his head propped under his arms, his feet dangling off the bed. Bill crawls across the bed and washes Richie down with the washcloth and lets him steal a sip from Bill’s water. 

  
“Next time we should invite Eds,” Richie says offhandedly as Bill is taking a drink, and he nearly chokes. “I bet he’d dress in the school girl uniform so we can take turns being the angry principal,” 

“Your m-mind is a terrifying place, Rich,” Bill says and Richie just laughs. 

“Oh, I see,” Richie says as Bill starts massaging the aloe into his skin, “Don’t worry, I’d let you be the secretary if you want. Bend you over my desk--”

“Beep beep, Richie,” Bill says, and Richie grins.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much to everyone who commented and gave kudos to the first fic. it really made me feel like i had a place in this fandom, and inspired me to keep working and gave me the confidence to post more of my art!! tripping eyes has always been something ive wanted to continue, and hopefully i haven't disappointed!!!
> 
> as always, my inbox is always open so hit me up on tumblr @cryingbilldenbrough to drop me a request or a prompt!


End file.
